The Ballad of Lazar Wolf
by Zelda Reine
Summary: In a world torn apart by war, a young minstrel is taking his first steps toward knowing what it really means to be a hero, learning that everything is not as it seems and that both League and Empire are more alike than he thinks.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a time of war. All able-bodied men and women were called upon to take up arms and due their duty to serve the League. Aidenus called those warriors who went off to fight in the Holy Land great heroes. He spoke of the insolence of the Empire, and how the League was supposed to show the barbarians in the Empire the Light. Most of the war took place far away, on another allod. To them, they called it the Holy Land, where Tensess had once lived and formed their collective of the Empire after defeating those savage Orcs.

Those who came home from the Holy Land had another story to tell.

They were nothing like the glorious heroes that they should have been. Kanians, Gibberlings, even Elves all came back in much the same state. Maimed, physically and mentally, they often lacked limbs that had been lost in the fray, and they were so quiet and so tense that it seemed like they would break if you so much as tapped them on the shoulder. Only a monster could do something so horrible, wreck such terrible damage to another living being. But then, that was exactly what they were fighting.

Sure, the Xadaganians were similar to the Kanians, but the other two races could only be called monsters at best. The Orcs, they fought with such savage rage. Those who returned often remarked on how fighting an Orc would make you wish you were in Siveria fighting twenty lynxes. They had an animalistic fury. The Arisen, on the other hand, could only be considered abominations of life. Shambling corpses, reanimated after death. They were rather easy to kill once you got close to them, but there lies the problem. Those zombies possessed some kind of arcane magic that getting close enough to kill them was nearly impossible. And their eyes! Those unfeeling eyes that always glowed a sickly green, never, ever blinking! That in itself was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. The fireflies often emit a greenish glow, and those who come back lose it when they see those lights.

However, that was just what he heard. Mere rumors. Lazar felt he had been lucky so far. He still had time before he would have to fight. While he waited for that day, he helped his mother tend their shop and practiced his lute.

Yes. He was not ashamed to admit it. He was an Elven bard. While his mother and grandmother frowned on his choice, they were still reluctantly learning to accept the fact that Lazar just did not have the potential for magic as the rest of the Wolf family. Instead, he taught himself how to control his voice and play the lute to create the most enticing music. He even heard rumors about bards harnessing that power as a way to fight. As of yet, Lazar found that to be foolish fancies. After all, it is only notes through the air.

Today, though, was an average day like every other. Lazar was occupied sweeping the floor of the shop and going about other miscellaneous items in preparation of opening for the day.

"Lazar, get some more of those healing potions from the storeroom. The last customers that came through nearly bought out yesterday's stock," a slightly aged, but exquisite looking woman called out to him from behind the counter, her pale blond hair tied up into a bun and fashioned with white gold ornaments.

"Yes, mother, I'm right on it," Lazar replied, setting his broom to the side. He looked related to the woman behind the counter. His pale blond hair was cropped short and laid haphazardly on his head. He moved to the storeroom, his black wings helping his small frame glide over the floor with the grace that all elves have.

In the storeroom, he rummaged about the shelves, his shining golden eyes scanning the shelves for the potions in questions. Upon finding their box, he picked it up in his thin arms and floated back out into the shop to set out the merchandise.

"Oh, and seeing those potions, you reminded me. I need more chamomiles; I'm almost out of herbs with healing agents. Perhaps sometime later when you're free, you could head out and gather me a fresh supply?"

"Not a problem," Lazar replied, picking up the broom to finish sweeping the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lazar was gliding through the grass brush, scanning the ground for wild chamomile. The great Grey Mountains loomed up above the ground, acting like a steadfast divider between Lightwood and the rest of the allod. For some strange reason, the chamomile seemed to grow best along the southern border of the range, between the Grey Mountains and the Dead Thicket, a rather dismal place populated by werewolves, wolves and other such predators. He shivered as the foreboding darkness of the foliage washed over him, stifling the warmth of the sun's rays.

His golden eyes flickered in his sockets as he searched the place, on the lookout for both the chamomile and hostile animals. It did not take him long to find a small cluster of chamomile, the white petals peeking out at him amongst the dull green grass. A roguish smile crept across his face as he cut the herbs from the ground with his sickle. At least now he had something to show for his efforts. In all honesty, Dead Thicket creeped him out, and he wanted to spend as little time in the place as possible.

As he continued his search for another cluster, he heard movement. He locked up, moving slowly, stealthily, so as not to attract attention to himself. _'Could it be a wolf?'_ he thought to himself, hoping to stalk whatever made the noise and get the advantage on it. Clutching his sickle more tightly, he inched toward the source of the noise in the thicket. Slowly, he pulled back the leafy foliage. Then, he froze.

There, lying in the clearing was the corpse of a woman, or so it appeared. At first glance, it certainly did seem like it was dead. Her body lay crumpled on the ground, and her clothes lay tattered and torn about her. Through the rips and tears he could see her thin, dark skin stretched over her ribs. Those ribs, moving up and down. Her arms and legs, unholy steel prosthetics. His eyes, originally wide from shock, narrowed in speculation over the figure. He tentatively reached a hand out to touch it.

Then, it coughed.

Without further thought, he tore away from that clearing in the thicket with an amazing speed. As he ran, a million thoughts flew through his head. '_Who was she?' 'Why was she lying there?' 'Was she hurt?' 'Was she already dead?' 'Where did she come from?' 'How did she get there?' 'What was she?'_

When he got back on the road to Novograd, he slowed down to catch his breath. How uncouth it would be to show up back at the shop in his shape, out of breath and out of sorts! He glided down the road, straightening his tunic and vest and fixing his hair.

Then, it happened so fast. A huge dark shadow suddenly materialized out from the trees lining the road and the form lunged at him, tackling his small frame to the ground.

"Wah!" he screamed on his way down in shock, trying to push the furry brown bear off him. The bear simply looked at him before barring its teeth in a semblance of a smile. Not too far away, he heard laughter. Turning his head, he saw his friend, Dmitri, trying to stifle his guffawing.

"Oh, ho, ho. Very funny," Lazar remarked sarcastically, his initial reaction of shock melting off his face into a more annoyed look.

"Hey, it was just a joke," Dmitri said, flinging his ponytail off his shoulder.

"Mmhmm. Sure,"

"And if you were paying attention, you would've seen us coming up behind you,"

"Well, you could at least tell Asimov to get his butt off me," Lazar said. Asimov, the brown bear, was still seated on him, slowly crushing his chest.

"Heh, fine. Here, Asimov," Dmitri called the bear. Quickly, and rather uncomfortably for Lazar, the bear moved its bulk from rest on Lazar and lumbered over to Dmitri's side. It was almost how funny the two of them looked like each other. Dmitri was a tall bear of a man, and if he ever forgot to shave one day, he and Asimov would be near indistinguishable.

"Anyways, Lazar, what's got you so tense?"

"hmph," Lazar snorted

"I mean, you look like you saw a ghost or something," Dmitri said as he helped Lazar to his feet. Changing his face into mock concern, he said, "Oh no. Don't tell me an Empire spy is holding your dear mother captive and charged you not to tell anyone! It's okay, Lazar! I will bring this fiend to justice!"

"No, it's none of that," he said, a faint smile peeking on his face. _'At least, I hope it's nothing of the sort,'_ he thought to himself. "My mom just sent me to pick some herbs in Dead Thicket. That's all."

"Ah! That explains everything!" Dmitri said in a tone of relief. He knew how much that place creeped him out, and in all honesty, who wasn't at least a little tense in that place.

The three of them, Lazar, Dmitri, and Asimov, began to casually walk back to Novograd together. They bantered idly, talking of things only they would find humorous or meaningful. Before long, the trio was back at Lazar's shop.

"Well, I suppose I should get back to work. My mom's expecting these chamomiles," he said, gesturing to his satchel.

"If you ever need any help, just ask. Me and Asimov here would be happy to oblige our services should you need it," Dmitri said seriously, before a large smile floated onto his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day, Lazar packed himself a small daypack. He wanted to go investigate what it was that had scared him off the previous day.

"And where do you think you're going?" His mother asked him,

"I'm going to meet Dmitri at the arena. He wanted me to help him practice combat,"

"Really, why can't you be more like him? Why can't you practice your magic like he practices combat?"

"I told you, bards will have their own place in this war in due time,"

"Sure. While your cousins are all off fighting for our freedom, your freedom, you're just going to sit here on your lazy bum and pluck strings all day. Really, what am I going to do with you?"

"Goodbye, mom," he told her, not wanting to be drawn further into this argument again.

Ever since he first picked up the lute, his mom had always been on his case, asking him why he chose that soldiering path and not something more honorable, like a mage or a paladin. To him, he loved music, and to learn how to manipulate those simple notes, to play chords and marches that could heal and renew the spirits of his allies, that would be his true reward for fighting against the encroaching Empire infidels.

Again, he floated down the path, back to the Dead Thicket. Goodness, how he hated that place. Several times, he questioned why he was willingly going back, questioning if the corpse had really coughed, or if it was just an animal, the rest of it plain tricks of his mind. The place was scary enough that it left you paranoid, thinking that a beast or something was hiding in every bush, waiting to jump you and steal your life for itself. The trees grew gnarled, dark and twisted. Again, he went to the place where the light failed to reach.

Carefully, Lazar made his way through the thick, stiff brush, scanning the ground to make sure he was on the right path, or trail, for lack of a better word. He didn't like the place. Not one bit. The air was heavy with heat, despite the lack of sun. Slowly, he retraced his path, searching for the signs of his passing in the previous day: trampled grass here, a broken branch there, a node of chamomile distinctly severed from its roots. So far, he seemed to be on the right track.

Before long, he managed to find his way back to where he was when he had heard the noise. Carefully, he maneuvered himself through the thick foliage again. He braced himself for what he might see. Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside the remaining branches and entered into the clearing.

Nothing.

There was nothing there except for the grass. Only wilted grass told the story of how something, someone, had been lying there the previous day. He walked around the clearing, searching for any clues. He looked through the tall grass, through the brush only to find nothing. Slowly, he turned his attention toward the dark canopy. The last thing he saw were two parallel streaks of glowing green.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He wasn't sure how long he had slept. When he woke, the sun seemed to have reached its apex. Judging by that, Lazar assumed he had been out for only for an hour or so.

_'I see the sun,'_ he suddenly realized. He was out of Dead Thicket. Someone had taken his unconscious body and moved it who knows where. It was probably his assailant, he thought.

Looking around a little, he noticed he was resting on a grassy mat in a rocky nook. Leaning over the edge, his face blanched as he noted the distance from his spot to the ground of the Dead Thicket. Venturing a completely wild guess, he assumed he must be somewhere along the range of the Grey Mountains.

A twig snapped.

Quickly, he flew to the far end of the nook, trying to squeeze himself into the wide corner.

"Ah!" It said, seemingly in as much surprise as he was. "I was expecting you to wake up soon," It spoke, It's voice distinctly feminine, but there was something off about it, something not entirely natural. As It brought itself into full view, Lazar studied It.

In general form, It seemed to take on the appearance of a woman, if but a woman of the likes he had never seen. It was tall, at least a head taller than himself, and from the skin that showed from beneath Its gear, he could tell It was, or had been, tanned at one point. Its hair was dark, probably black, and appeared of a thicker and different texture than anyone he knew around Novograd or even all of Lightwood. Its arms, and from what he could tell, Its legs as well, seemed to be constructed of some sort of crude, ugly prosthetics. Above all, It wore a mask with markings in an almost tribal pattern. The only part of Its face that he could see was its mouth and the tip of its nose, the lips on its face being fuller and distinctly feminine in form.

"Why have you brought me here?" Lazar asked.

"You were injured," It stated matter-of-factly

"Err… I'm better now. Will you let me go home?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Wh-what? Why not?" Lazar asked, somewhat in disbelief

"Well, by now you've probably realized I'm not exactly one of your loyal League members."

"I can plainly see that. I might've been 'injured,' but I'm not blind."

"Then you must think me for a fool."

"Me? Think you dimwitted? Never!" Lazar said with a tone of sarcasm.

"Then surely you've figured out the reason on your own. If I let you free, you'd run off and tell all your League friends about me, and then they'd hunt me down with their pitchforks."

Lazar had to give it credit. It got his plan pretty much spot on. A silence fell between them. It moved further into the nook and sat itself down. Then, it pulled out several strange objects and began to work on something. It seemed as though It was fidgeting around with Its leg, or something of the sort. Lazar watched it work in silence, trying to figure out what It was doing by himself. After was felt like a long enough silence, Lazar mustered the courage to break it and ask It himself.

"So, what is it that you're doing?" Lazar asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I'm repairing my leg," It replied bluntly.

"With a screwdriver?"

"And other tools."

"You're using a screwdriver on your leg."

"Well, yeah. I was injured, and the power of the Light doesn't quite seem to work on my limbs, but it did wonders on my chest," It said with a sort of regretful tone, adding the last bit as an almost happy afterthought.

"You were hurt?"

"Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here in these mountains alone with you."

"On that note, how did you manage to get all the way over here?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" It snapped, green eyes flashing in annoyance as It resumed more concentrated work on its leg. Once again, silence fell between them. Lazar sat there, his had still brimming with different thoughts. Not wanting the silence to continue for as long as it had before, Lazar once again voiced his thoughts.

"So, does this mean that you're one of those Empire Zombies, or whatever they're called?" He asked, this time somewhat more timidly.

"We are _not_ zombies. We are the Zem, or the Arisen, as our Empire compatriots prefer to call us," It snapped back, placing a strong emphasis on the "not."

"Oh," was all Lazar could really think of to say. Suddenly, all the horror stories of the Arisen his friends had faced in the field of battle came back to mind. He blanched at the thought that he was sitting mere feet away from one. It seemed to notice him stiffen.

"And I don't know what silly stories the League filled your head with, but I assure you, that propaganda is probably just as absurd as our own about you elves."

"Wait, you have stories about us?" He asked curiously, but still quite afraid. He wasn't sure if It was just trying to get him to lower his guard before attacking him, or something of the sort.

"Of course. What country doesn't have propaganda when at war?" She stated, as if it was something you were just born knowing. "You just need to be able to tell the difference between fact and fiction. We use it to help instill loyalty in the people back at home," She said, finishing with a softer, but proud, tone.

Lazar looked at her, still slightly distrustful, but starting to warm up to her presence. She still seemed rather intimidating to him, with her strange appearance, but she seemed a little more human than she seemed a few hours ago. She had been injured. She was not infallible. The Empire, as it turns, might not be full of the liars, thugs, and criminal scum that the League had made them out to be. A small smile skittered across his face as he thought.

"Could we make a deal?" Lazar hazarded to ask.

"Hmm?"

"I'll keep your secret better if you allow me to return home. My friends will become suspicious if I stay out here any later, and I doubt they would believe me if I even suggest that you could have infiltrated our border."

"I'll consider your proposition," she said, an unreadable smile playing across her decayed lips. "Perhaps. If you also agree to return here every day, should I need provisions from the town I could send you to get them. On that condition, I'll let you return."

Lazar grinned in relief. The zombie, no, the Arisen, was letting him go! He, Lazar Wolf, a mere Elven bard, bargained with an Arisen and procured his life and his freedom.

"I'll return to you tomorrow!" he told her, eager to get home before the sun set even lower in the sky.

"Now, if you're going to preserve your 'alibi' and my safety, you better hurry up and get back home. Go!" She told him, urging him to get out of her sight. Not wanting to wait for her to change her mind, Lazar got up and quickly fled from the nook. As he entered into the Dead Thicket below, he began to recognize things, certain trees and rocks and fallen logs. He knew where he was! That Arisen really knew how to use the resources the environment gave her; he had to give her that.

Before long, he was back on the path he had taken yesterday. The fading sunlight was skewing the shadows, twisting the trees into long, strange parodies of what they had been. Before long, the walls of Novograd rose up against the purple sky, and he made his way back home.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Quietly as he could, he slipped in through the door, locking it behind him. Looking around, he noticed the dining room was dark. Drats. He missed dinner. His heart was still racing from his encounter earlier that day. He dug around the icebox, searching its contents for leftovers.

"Well, what have we here," a voice called out from behind him. He practically jumped in surprise, before turning around and noticing it was only his mother.

"I just figured I would get some dinner…" Lazar began to explain, before being interrupted by his mother.

"You didn't stop back at lunch and you didn't come home for dinner! Dmitri even stopped by this afternoon asking for you, but you had told me you were with him. You owe me an explanation! Where have you been!" his mother angrily spat at him, her face seething with rage.

"I… was out-"

"Out where!"

"Over by Dead Thicket-"

"You want me to believe that lie!? I know you loathe that place-"

"-I swear I was there -!"

"-Where were you? Were you trying to spoil some poor girl's innocence?

"Ah! No, never!"

"Then answer me, dammit: _Where. Were. You_?"

Lazar had run out of things to say. He had given her the truth, or at least part of it, and she didn't believe him, so what chance did he have of her believing in the full truth? Lazar remained silent, head downcast in shame at the way he was being scolded like a naughty 7-year-old.

"Ach! If you won't tell me, then no dinner for you!" She said vehemently. Quickly, she stalked over to the icebox, slammed the lid down and locked it, take the key with her. "And tomorrow, you have full shop duty," she added venomously as she left the room.

Lazar sullenly trudged up to his room and laid down on his bed, counting the wood grains in the ceiling beams while gritting his teeth. What more could he have said? 'Oh yes, mother. I heard a noise in the Dead Thicket and I went to investigate, but then I was knocked out and taken captive by an Arisen who so kindly decided to release me.' Yep. She would absolutely believe that over anything else he could've told her.

He sighed and rolled over. That brought up another problem. Having full shop duty meant that he wouldn't be able to see the Arisen again until late, and he still had some doubts about her. What if he didn't return? What would she do then? Could she try to kill all his friends? Just how much power did she have, how much did she know, and just what was she doing in Novograd?

Eventually, sleep called to him, helping him to forget the pangs of hunger. He dreamt a strange dream, where people look like complete strangers, but somehow, innately, he's known them for a long time. He dreamt of running with a Dmitri that looked as though he were 7, and chasing a person, a woman, the Arisen. All around him, the world was spinning, slowly at first, but gaining speed as he neared her. He touched her hand, and the world flew apart like a shattered mirror. The ground broke underneath him, alienating him on his own allod. Dmitri drifted away on his own, with a sad, almost disappointed face, and the Arisen woman was breaking into dust on a third. He lunged for her allod, but fell. Down, down, down through the Astral. There was no ground. Falling through the Astral was like falling through space. There was no end. The space of the astral flew around him, shapes forming and changing, reminding him of the Endoplasmic Reticulum in a cell, the only support to his world. Then, he saw the light.

His eyes fluttered open to the light gently streaming in through the window. It was still early in the morning. The light was the first light of the day. Slowly, he got out of bed and ambled over to his wash basin. He ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to keep it from falling into his eyes before plunging his hands into the water of the basin and splashing his face with it. The water was quite frigid. Well, at least he was more or less awake now.

When he went down to eat breakfast, he could still feel the tense, upset vibes originating from his mother. She muttered something along the lines of "worthless, lazy boy" as she moved to another room, unwilling to come to another confrontation like the previous night. He winced slightly at her murmuring as he ate his breakfast.

The minutes trickled by slowly as he stood behind the counter. For the most part, it was a dull business. Few people stopped by in the morning, especially at this time of day. Occasionally, he would see a person or two passed outside the front of the shop, but generally, it was the same unchanging scene for hours.

As he was going through the register, making sure all the money was there and accounted for to pass the time, the tinkling of bells chimed throughout the shop. His eyes shot up toward the opening door. Dmitri entered the shop and made his way over to Lazar, smiling in an attempt to lighten Lazar's down mood.

"Lazar! Where were you yesterday? I looked everywhere for you!"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Lazar replied, somewhat sullenly.

"Now what makes you say that?" Dmitri began, putting a hand over his mouth in mock shock. "It's my duty to support you. You offend me that you don't think I'll believe you. So, now who is?"

"She?" Lazar questioned. _Well, I guess It _was_ a girl- Wait! How does he know about her? _he suddenly thought to himself.

"Yeah, the girl you ditched me to see?"

"It… She wasn't exactly… wait! I did not run off to see a girl!" Lazar said, flabberghastedly.

"Oh really, now?" Dmitri replied, his mouth turned up in a crooked, suspicious smile.

"Yes!" he said in earnest, "In fact, I was taken hostage by an Arisen," he finished firmly.

"Really? And the zombie just let you… walk away?" He asked, making a little walking motion with his hands.

"No. Uh, actually, she said I need to go back today," Lazar said, quietly.

"Hmm… I'd really like to see this zombie who decided you were her toy now," Dmitri said.

"She wanted me to come alone, but honestly, I wouldn't mind you coming. Just as long as you don't tell anyone about her."

"Sure, sure. You have my silence. Where shall we meet?"

"At the lumber mill."

"What time?"

"An hour after sundown. That should give me sufficient time to close up shop."

"I'll be waiting for you, Lazar. You and your zombie girl," Dmitri chuckled to himself. Could Lazar really have found an Arisen this far into the land of the League? He highly doubted it. But then again, it was in times like these where you could never be too careful. He waved goodbye to Lazar as he left the shop to rejoin the company of Asimov.

Lazar watched as Dmitri left. Suddenly, for some reason, he couldn't shake a feeling of anxiety. There seemed to be something telling him that maybe he shouldn't have invited Dmitri along, that maybe he shouldn't have told Dmitri about any of this, that maybe he should have just plain forgotten about the Arisen altogether. Rethinking what she had told him, he doubted that she could find him in this city; the watchmen would catch her before she even got close. He smiled inwardly as he reflected on his foolishness. He realized, he wanted to stay back, to just sleep it off, but he'd already promised to meet Dmitri at the lumber mill, and he'd already "ditched" him once. His smile faded as he let out a soft sigh. Why couldn't he ever think things through rationally before jumping in to these half-baked plans?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It wasn't long before night fell and it was time to close up shop. Thinking about how you were going to escape into the night to meet some stranger, an enemy in a time of war, really helped passed the time. If he was ever caught, he'd have one heck of a time explaining.

Quickly, he performed his duties and grabbed some dinner before heading off to the lumber yard. It didn't take long, but the lack of light created a feeling of general unrest. The lumber yard was quiet for once; normally, the place was filled with the deafening noise of the saws tearing through the wood.

His golden eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he looked for Dmitri.

"Psst!" he called out, slowly moving through the vacated work area. He realized, he didn't really like having chosen the lumber yard as their meeting place. The piles of logs casted so many different shadows in the moonlight that any shapes and forms were obscured. _It's almost as bad as the Dead Thicket during the day_, Lazar thought to himself and he turned the corner. Before he had time to respond, he was knocked to the ground.

Rough dark fur and yellowed teeth hung in the air, inches from his face. Then, the creature opened its mouth and started lapping his face, much like a dog.

"Eyack, Asimov! Get off!" He whispered harshly at the bear.

"Hmph," Dmitri grunted as he helped lift Asimov off Lazar, "Not this time, boy. We got things to do," he told the bear, "Now, lead to the way, '_moi kapitan_,'" he told Lazar in jest.

Lazar got up and brushed the wood shavings off his clothes. "This way. She was residing in the Dead Thicket."

"Wait, the Dead Thicket?" Dmitri asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Yeah. She's living near the Grey Mountains, for now," he replied, with a hint of superiority that he wasn't too afraid of entering into the Dead Thicket or the Grey Mountains at night. It was rare that Lazar found himself being the braver one of their duo, even if by a fraction.

"You're sure it's safe to be going there in the night?"

That, he hadn't thought about.

"No, but, I was thinking you and Asimov could fend off any wolves, and if we are overwhelmed, she'll probably find us."

"So you're placing all your hopes of survival on me, my pet, and some strange girl that probably kidnapped you?"

"Sounds about right," Lazar replied, nodding his head in grim affirmation.

Dmitri sighed and facepalmed as he followed Lazar into the even darker woods. To him, something was just waiting to go wrong. He didn't actually expect Lazar to take him all the way into the Dead Thicket.

Lazar carried the lead intrepidly. He could hardly see two feet in front of him, but that didn't matter so much. He was going to the Arisen again. He was going to prove to Dmitri that he wasn't lying.

As he glided onward, he realized he had absolutely no idea where they were. It was too dark to see any landmark, not to mention the tracks he had followed before were completely imperceptible in the dark. Cautiously, he felt his way through the trees.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Dmitri called out behind him.

"Y-yes! I know where we are. We're almost there," he lied, too ashamed to admit that he had gotten them lost in the Thicket in the middle of the night. The sounds of the Dead Thicket echoed around them ominously. Rustling of leaves, snaps of twigs, the howls of the wolves all set them on edge. At this point, Lazar was hoping to run into anyone that would help him find a way out.

A flash of green.

A firefly?

"Did you see that?" Dmitri whispered nervously to Lazar

"See what?"

Flash of green.

"That."

No, the leaves obscure the unwavering light.

"It's her."

The Arisen drew closer to the duo and their bear. Asimov barred his fangs at her, growling in a low, husky tone that signaled he was ready to attack.

"I see you brought a friend," she said as she drew closer, the green orbs of her eyes floating well above Lazar's head. Comparatively, she stood slightly taller than even Dmitri, and Dmitri was among the taller ones in Novograd.

At the sight of the Arisen, whose form was partially obscured by the darkness, Dmitri blanched. He hadn't _really_ thought that Lazar had really been captured by an Arisen. Dmitri moved to put on his spiked knuckles.

"And I see you neglected to tell him I was your friend," the Arisen spoke again when she noticed Dmitri go for his weapons.

"In all fairness, you never _did_ explain what, exactly, you are doing here in Lightwood," Lazar responded, feeling somewhat daring for having come all the way out here in the first place. "And, I would hazard a guess that you yourself are in no predicament for telling us otherwise. You had been injured, and had said yourself that it would take time to heal."

Dmitri looked at Lazar. If the Arisen really was injured, why didn't they just kill it now? Dispose of her before she resumed being a threat to them and the League.

"You want my mission? Then here," the Arisen said reluctantly, with a tinge of bitterness in her voice, as she withdrew several documents that had been concealed on her person. "My party and I were supposed to enter Novograd as ambassadors of the Empire and speak with Aidenus. If you read those, you'll see that we were sent to request an armistice with the League. Yasker had decided that the presence of astral demons was becoming more overbearing, and not just for the Empire, but for your League as well. He had hoped that we could form a truce for some time and unite our forces to oust the invading demons. However, we were attacked en route by some of your… patriotic kinsmen up in Siveria, and I was the only one to escape south on this allod. I'm not sure where the others are, but it is my duty to fulfill this mission, with or without them."

Lazar and Dmitri stood there in silence, digesting what the Arisen had just told them. Could they really trust her? She had documents, and the signature did claim to be Yasker's own. However, they never met Yasker. They never saw his signature before. For all they knew, she could have just fabricated the document to sneak into Novograd and spy on them.

The Arisen continued speaking.

"Now, I'm sure you want this peace, as well. In all honesty, everyone's sick of this war. If you'd like to know, I'm Lt. Semer Nuha, heretic. Will you help me get into Novograd undetected? I believe I can explain the situation to the officials, but if the civilians around here are anything like they are in Siveria, I won't even be given the chance to speak to anyone."

Peace. How ironic. They had always been told that the Empire was some blood thirsty horde of barbarians allied together. Never had either of them ever entertained the thought that it could be one of the enemies extending the first hand in a mission for peace.

Lazar smiled at her. "Nice to meet you, Lt. Nuha. I'm Lazar Wolf, aspiring minstrel, and this is Dmitri Medvezhi, druid. We'll help you," he told her, making their introductions formal, as opposed to what had happened earlier. In the darkness, it was much easier to pretend she was somewhat similar in form to himself or Dmitri.

Dmitri looked at Lazar as if he were crazy. First, Lazar had dragged him out to the Dead Thicket in the middle of the night, and now he was being signed up to help some zombie in her nefarious plan to "make peace" with the League; probably just some ruse to get close to Aidenus and off him like they had done to deDesiré, another Great Mage of the League.

"You're not serious about this, are you?" Dmitri whispered harshly to Lazar.

"What? I just think that maybe this is a sign that the war needs to end," he whispered back.

"Yeah, but without a sanction from Aidenus or another official, everyone will think we're traitors or something for hanging out with the zombie."

"Then I guess we'll just have to keep Nuha hidden in the meantime."

"So, do you have any thoughts on how I can get closer to Aidenus?" Nuha asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the whispering argument going between Lazar and Dmitri.

"I think if you could disguise yourself, then it would be a breeze," Lazar suggested. "We could help you find your way through Novograd and into Aidenus' Tower. The city can be a bit confusing to newcomers."

"And now you're offering to lead the enemy straight into the heart of our capital. Great," Dmitri mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, and how are you healing?" Lazar asked, shrugging off Dmitri's accusations. At this, Dmitri raised an eye. He didn't really think that the zombie had been hurt. The rumors said they were untouchable.

"I've almost fixed it. If you could find some iron screws I could work with, then I might be able to put myself back to top performance," Nuha replied. "Perhaps you could meet me again tomorrow with it? I'll continue thinking of a plan on how to talk to Aidenus. As for you, you should head back now. I can't have a change in your behaviors giving away my existence."

Lazar nodded in understanding. Nuha noticed his golden eyes bob up and down in the dark, and her own emerald eyes disappeared from sight as she turned and stalked away, only the green glow of her prosthetics giving away position as she quickly faded into the shadows of the Dead Thicket.

Lazar turned to Dmitri and gently tapped his arm, signaling that it was time to go back home.

"Why did you agree to help her?" Dmitri asked in a concerned voice.

"She seemed honest enough."

"The zombie was leading you on. Do you really think that the Empire just sends a squad of armed men to Novograd just to go over peace talks?"

"Well, no-"

"See! You said it yourself. Now be a good League boy, go home, and don't think about her tomorrow. I'll take care of things from here."

"What! You don't mean-"

"You know what I mean. News like this shouldn't be kept secret. It could give us an incredible advantage on the field of battle if we take her hostage-"

"But she offered peace!"

"As a ruse to lower our guards and get information from us-"

"You have no proof!"

"You gave her our names and our specialties!"

"Nuha gave us hers and her rank!"

"Is that even her real name? Is Lt. even her real title? For all we know she could've fabricated those on the spot and we wouldn't be the wiser. Remember, the zombies are the most cunning of the Empire infidels!"

"You know what? Just go. I think she's telling the truth. I think that all this time, everything we've been told about the war have been lies."

"You know I say this only in your best interest," Dmitri said, exhaustion starting to overcome his will to continue debating Lazar.

"You may mean well, but I think we need to review our positions on what's going on."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Just don't tell anyone about Nuha."

"I can't promise I won't, but I will promise to leave you out of it."

"Good night."

"'night."

With those words, they parted, each to his own dwelling. Lazar quietly snuck up the wooden stairs, his lithe movements not making a sound. Upon entering his room, he settled into his bed and promptly fell asleep. It had gotten incredibly late.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The week had passed rather uneventfully. Lazar had been going out every night alone to speak with Nuha and drop off certain miscellaneous supplies that she had requested. During the day while he maintained the shop, he made sure to keep his ears bent on seeking out any news of the Arisen "spy." Occasionally, he would hear snippets of gossip about her, but most was just speculation; after all, how could one of those "zombies" penetrate the defenses of the League?

Lazar smirked to himself as he packed the latest supplies Nuha had requested into a small satchel. The sun was setting as it usually did when he set out to their standard location. The air was still warm from the day. The days had been growing warmer, and the crops in the fields outside the city looked as though they would open and bear their fruit any day now.

Gracefully, he flitted through the dense foliage of the Dead Thicket. He had grown to know the way to her hideout, and was working on coming up with other paths. After all, his path would only pass as an animal trail for so long.

"Nuha!" He called out as he floated his way up to her niche in the mountainside.

"Did you bring it?" she asked, expectantly, but in a rather good mood. Her odd voice was something he had grown used to hearing, and now he could detect the different emotions in it.

"Yes, right here," Lazar replied, passing over the satchel.

"Good, very good. I've almost finished it."

"Really?" Lazar asked excitedly, "Do you need anything else?"

"Just… this," Nuha said as she reached over and plucked a few hairs from Lazar's head.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, more out of shock than actual pain. "What do you need my hair for?" Lazar asked, curious now as to what Nuha had been making.

"This," Nuha replied as she displayed a rather interesting looking beaker with the most peculiar fluid sloshing around inside it. Lazar raised an eyebrow at her, confused as to what she was hinting at. "It's a transformation potion. I've made enough to last for a week, should I be delayed in my mission. I'll just need to ration it out."

"And what is it supposed to turn you into?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly. If this was going where he thought it was going, he would go and abort this mission of hers. There was no way he was going to let her run around looking like him.

"It should only give me the general form of an Elf," she supplied nonchalantly. "I've crafted it so that I'll still look somewhat like myself, but it'll help to hide my prosthetics."

"You're sure it'll only do that? We Elves have wings; we'll notice if we have someone walking around in the shape of an Elf who doesn't have our natural grace, per say."

"I know what I'm doing. As much as I hate to admit it, I have seen Elves before. In the prison camps." Lazar's jaw clenched. He never did hear of what happened to those on conquered allods. He'd never really thought of what happened, either. "I was ordered to catch League fugitives, but that was a long time ago. I do not wish to bring up any blemishes that the Empire has that will challenge the peace Yasker seeks to bring."

"I'll forgive you on behalf of the Elves this once," Lazar told her, somewhere a cross between a stern and somber expression. "Now, let's see this potion work."

Nuha raised the container to her lips and drank a large gulp before replacing the stopper on the flask. The actual process of the potion's transformation was strange, and seemed almost painful. It looked as though her flesh and skeleton had melted and turned into a wax or clay. It ran down her prosthetics, completely coating them in flesh, and the arms themselves seemed to condense and shrink from their clunky forms, becoming dainty, delicate things. From her back, a set of iridescent insectoid winds sprouted, the translucent blue held in place by a cloud of golden light. Perhaps the most horrifying part of it to watch was the reformation of her face. The skin seemed to melt over her mask, and her body appeared to just absorb it into her skull. The skin looked like it was repairing itself, turning from the shades of decay, to dark olive and then lightening to a soft honey tone.

The creature that now stood before Lazar was no longer Arisen, but it didn't seem like it was completely Elven, either. Her hair remained dark, her eyes the glowing green, and she stood firmly on the ground instead of hovering over it, still rather tall for an Elf, but now closer to an acceptable size. Sufficient to say, it seemed as though she didn't have the natural grace of the Elves, but instead she held herself in such a manner of authority that one wouldn't dare ask questions.

Lazar eyed her up and down. She was still wearing her healer garb, complete with Empire insignia, but now she no longer seemed so strange, so foreign. She appeared as someone he might have grown up with. A small smile crossed his lips at the thought.

"So this works?" Nuha asked, taking his smile as a confirmation that she was disguised well enough now.

"In a way, yes. However, we're gonna need to get you some new clothes. We can't have you looking like an Elf parading around in Empire apparel." Lazar took a minute to think. It appeared that neither he nor Nuha had, up to this point, considered the problem of clothes.

"Could you somehow attain some clothes for me? Borrow a set from a neighbor?" Nuha hazarded to suggest. Lazar gave her a quizzical look.

"Borrow from a neighbor? Where'd you get that idea?"

"It's another long story, pertaining to me not quite willingly aiding an elf escape back home," she told him in turn.

Lazar looked at her. How does someone not realize they're helping someone else? But she said not to inquire about it, so he did his best to push the thought to the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, he considered the possibility of loaning her one of his own outfits. However, he quickly dashed that thought from his mind. She was still quite taller than him, meaning that none of his clothes would fit her even half decently.

"It will be challenging, but I'm sure I could find you some clothes. Would you… um… mind giving me your size so I can… um… find clothes that might fit you?" He asked, awkwardly. From all his experiences, asking a woman her dress size was a huge taboo. As she was an Arisen, he had his doubts that, even if she gave him her size, it might be in a different set of units.

He was correct in his assumption. Although what she told him was in the standard units of the Empire, it was still a drastically different system than what was commonly used in the League. He sighed inwardly. To solve the clothing problem temporarily, he might just have to resort to the suggestion that she had given. He didn't like it too much, but it gave her a much better chance at blending in.

"Well, as you have a limited reserve of that potion, I think it would be best if I got on the job of finding you some clothes right now. It would be much easier to… borrow a girl's outfit without any people awake, asking questions as to why I of all people need a lady's dress," he said.

Nuha nodded in agreement. "Perhaps, if you could even return it to me by the morning, I can get to Aidenus faster."

"And if anyone asks any questions, you will be a friend I met in one of my travels to Siveria," he added. No doubt Dmitri would ask about who this woman was. She no longer looked like an Arisen, but there were still significant pointers about her person that would tip off any person that she was not from around here. "I'll be back as fast as I can!" Lazar called as he left her once again.


End file.
